


Magnolia Flowers

by Lyric (UndineDivine)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Aftercare, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bisexual Male Character, Coping Mechanisms, Daddy Kink, Different BDSM dynamics for each male, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Female!Reader - Freeform, Foursome - F/M/M/M, Gardens & Gardening, Good BDSM Etiquette, Impact Play, Levi/Erwin/Mike have PTSD, Masochism, Multi, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Retired Military Levi/Erwin/Mike, Sadism, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Tagging as I go, chubby!reader, pansexual male character, plussize!reader, sub drops, sub space, thick!reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:00:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25100533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UndineDivine/pseuds/Lyric
Summary: When you purchased your first home you’d anticipated it being a turning point in your life. You just didn’t anticipate that turn to give you whiplash.A new home throws you into a new lifestyle you would have never thought you’d find yourself in– with three men you’d never expected to be with.
Relationships: Erwin Smith/Reader, Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin)/Reader, Levi/Erwin Smith/Mike Zacharias, Levi/Erwin Smith/Mike Zacharias/Reader, Levi/Reader, Mike Zacharias/Reader, Sasha Blouse/Connie Springer
Comments: 29
Kudos: 97





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all, Just some things about the reader in this fic before you get invested:
> 
> I keep the reader ambiguous in appearance and use [y/n]. Use of [y/n] becomes minimal in favor of pet names as the story progresses. 
> 
> One thing that is not ambiguous is that the reader is thick, you could also say plus sized though because that’s different in every country I favor the word thick. I also think its kind of a sexier adjective. 
> 
> Reader has self consciousness issues and anxiety, both are being treated/have been treated through therapy. I keep it ambiguous as to whether or not the reader is still in therapy-- regardless the reader is insinuated to be far along and doing well in her treatment. Shout out to my peeps who are/have been in therapy, your mental health is important and you’re doing great no matter where you are in it. 
> 
> Reader is in her mid to late 20′s because realistically purchasing a home before that is near impossible. Hell even in our 20′s its hard. I also wanted to give a little love to my thick girls in their later 20′s because we out here. 
> 
> A lot of AOT reader inserts, if not completely ambiguous, often emphasize a super fit form. Which makes sense in the typical setting when the reader is in the AOT world and maybe a soldier-- but I wanted to give some love to our fuller body types. Maybe I just got tired of reading “...reader’s flat/muscular stomach...” and going-- ooh can’t relate! Haaa. 
> 
> That being said, you can read this no matter what your body type because everyone’s perception of self is different-- I just wanted to give the heads up because the reader does struggle a bit with her sense of self in the story because of her body type as her self confidence continues to develop. 
> 
> BDSM dynamics ultimately take place in this fic. Some are good BDSM practices/etiquette, some are not good. Professionals know the difference and this is not your guide to polyamory or BDSM. The poor etiquette will be rather obvious but if you’re interested in pursuing BDSM in your real life, please don’t use this work of fiction as gospel. Do your research and practice safely!  
> My fictional stories are for ADULTS. Do not read them if you are under the age of 18. 
> 
> With all that out of the way, Please enjoy~

“I got this,” A panted breath.

“I got this,” A strained grunt.

“Nope I lied.” A loud thunk of a heavy box hitting green grass.

“Told ‘ya so.” The brunette breathlessly quipped from her position beside another box, her arms haphazardly flung over its surface. “Can we please take a break now?”

Admitting defeat, you fell in a heap on the lawn and nodded your head, but not before running your forearm across your sweaty brow. “Okay, yeah,” your reply was just as breathless although your friend had given up long before you. “Like five minutes.”

The other female placed her chin on the box, framing her head between her outstretched arms. “Okay, yeah, like fifteen minutes.” She echoed in a tired din, attempting to get you to thoughtlessly agree to her editing of the time.

Though tired with your legs and arms throbbing under the surface of your skin, you shook your head. “No Sasha,” you said firmly. Though it sounded like you were trying to convince yourself over her. “If we take longer than five minutes, we’re gonna quit and we’re almost done!” You gestured with an open palm to the admittedly small moving van parked in the street in front of you. You’d made good headway with it. It was amazing how much stuff you could fit in such a small van.

It was amazing how little space said stuff could take up in such a big home.

Well, big might be a little generous. It was by no means a mansion, certainly not as big as some of the other models on the same street, but it was bigger than your previous living conditions.

More importantly it was yours.

Yours.

You smiled, looking up at the bright sky above you, dotted with a few fluffy clouds.

Your first home.

Your heart sped up when you reminded yourself. You had doubts that it would ever happen. Saving enough money to put a down payment on a home without loans or handouts was no easy feat. But you did it, and that hard work had paid off in achieving your goal. Your down payment was enough to make the house payments bearable; though for the first few months you could see that a majority of your income would go back into the home either in the form of said payments, filling the home with furniture, or renovating some of the areas that needed love.

Like the front yard.

The front yard needed some love.

Not the lawn. The lawn was good. The lawn was providing you and Sasha with a much-needed reprieve. Yes, the lawn could stay.

You loved lawn.

Lawn loved you.

Until your arms started to itch. A less than intimidating growl left your lips as you quickly sat up, your nails digging into your skin as you scratched at it for some relief before flailing your arms about to try and save them from the irritation—as if you could shake it off your flesh. 

“Back to work.” You chirped, making Sasha groan.

“Remind me what I’m getting out of this again?” She mumbled, her face planting itself back to the box to muffle her protests.

Kicking yourself up to standing, you looked over your shoulder with a playful smile, “I’m feeding you.” You reminded her.

After a long pause, perhaps letting your words sink in, Sasha released a huff, lifting her face and flexing her small arms in her baggy t-shirt. “Second wind!” she shrieked by way of a battle cry, her hands clenching the cube between her legs in a vice grip as she moved to a squat, yanking the box off of the pristine lawn.

Who would take such good care of a lawn but ignore the rest of the yard? The previous owner apparently. Then again, it made a bit of sense. It was easy to turn on a sprinkler system to keep a lawn looking fresh whereas the things you wanted to add would take work. Like flowers. You loved flowers. Though you’d struggle on and off with a potentially green thumb, unlike your mother who could make anything grow. Planting flowers was a must. You would work your way to the backyard. But the front yard was like a first impression and you wanted it to be pretty for when friends came over as well as for the strangers that passed by. You wanted people to say, “Oh what a cute house. Whoever bought it really spruced up the place. It looks much better. Oh, it so does, blah blah blah.” Should you care what other people said? No. But you were human. Besides, your mother always kept an immaculate home, you wanted to emulate her in the maintenance of your own home.

As always you were getting too ahead of yourself. You were thinking twelve steps beyond where you were. That could be dangerous. Such thoughts could stimulate anxiety. Something you were unfortunately prone to. You took a deep breath, stealing your resolve to focus on the present moment.

You lifted your gaze, letting it drag over the neighborhood. “Find every color.” You murmured to yourself.

Red, the roses on the bush two houses down.

Orange, the moving van.

Yellow, your shirt.

Green, the lawn.

Blue, the sky.

Purple, your struggled to find purple and made a note to plant some purple pansies to rectify that.

Pink, the flowers of the magnolia tree next door.

You took a deep breath. This was your favorite grounding exercise you’d learned from therapy. It forced you to stay in the moment, steel yourself, and stop racing thoughts—often times before they happened since now you were much better at recognizing the warning signs. It took a lot of work to get to this point. It was work you were proud of.

You took another breath.

First the van. Empty the van. One thing at a time.

A huffing and puffing Sasha stumbled down the shallow steps of the front door—your front door you though joyously—with her hands on her hips, bent slightly at the waist to pin you with judgement. “Excuse me? Am I do’n all the work around here?”

You smirked, nudging the box in front of you with the toe of your shoe, the memory of your struggle to lift it still fresh in your mind. You weren’t in a hurry for a repeat performance in spite of your hassling of Sasha. “Depends, how big of a meal you want?” You teased her.

The brunette scoffed. “If you want me to go at it alone then you better be treating me to a buffet.”

You giggled, though a twinge of envy settled in your chest. Sasha was a petite thing considering how much she ate. You were not. The fact that she could eat so much and still keep her shape while you struggled around your weight made you jealous. The thought of going to a buffet filled you with dread. You always wondered what people thought when they saw someone of thicker size stepping into one of those. It triggered the self-consciousness you were working on diminishing. It wasn’t as though you were lazy, ugly, or any other stereotypical term that so wrongly coincided with your set. Hell, you’d moved over half your old residence by yourself. You were strong! Your body could do amazing things. You just didn’t match the image plastered all over social media and society of what a woman “should” look like.

Size 0 mannequins could go fuck themselves.

You had hips, you had a butt, you had ample breasts—all things sexualized excessively in the female form—you just also had a little extra. Thick thighs, a bit of a tummy—society wanted you to have tits and an ass but when you had the addition that often went with those things naturally, you were frowned upon. It was a complete catch 22. However, society wasn’t going to change, not overnight. So instead you worked on yourself—or rather your perception of self. Therapy helped, but it was an everyday battle to combat two parts of your brain. The half that liked and appreciated the many elements of you, including your body—and the half that was an asshole.

Right now, the asshole was winning. Because of this you had no interest in taking Sasha to a buffet—which meant you had to actually pick up the box you were glaring at.

Bending over, you hoisted the box into your arms with refreshed energy and groaned as you started to your home. “Remind me again why we didn’t recruit the guys?” You mumbled; your voice strained with effort. You probably had books in there. Yeah that was absolutely the book box. Should have spaced those damn things out. What kinda dumb ass were you to put almost all of them in one box?

“Oh, it’s not that much and they’re working, we can totally handle it.” Sasha said, her voice mimicking yours as best it could, though laced heavy with sarcasm. “That’s you. That’s how you sounded.”

You were kicking yourself, “Talk some sense into me next time.” You called, over your shoulder, dropping the box just inside the door where it was going to stay until you either, one, had the energy to move it, or two, had finished putting up your half book shelf.

It was probably going to live there for a while.

“Already thinking about ‘next time’? Oh, no, you’re not moving for at least 10 years. You can’t get me to do this again before that.” Sasha said sternly when you walked back outside to meet her by the van. “I’ll book you for 10 years from now.” You agreed, leaning against the side of the vehicle while Sasha took a moment to fix her ponytail which had gone messy with her unloading efforts.

Walking around to the back of the moving van, you leaned down to pick up another box, a smaller one than the last and took a moment to look over what was left. Just a few bigger items. They were bulky but between the two of you they wouldn’t be difficult to manage. Getting the bed frame and headboard up the stairs was going to be a pain in the ass, luckily TV’s were thinner now so that would be easy to get inside, the bedside tables were small and each of you could carry one of those, the dresser was going to be a bit of a bitch…

You bit your lip, looking over the items and making a list of difficulty in your head. Once again you were filling your mind with ‘to-do’s. Luckily, a voice pulled you out of your own thoughts as you backed down the van’s slope.

“Hello girls!”

You turned around to see an older woman toddling down the driveway beside your own, holding a tray with cookies and two glasses of what appeared to be lemonade.

Putting on your best ‘first impression’ face, you gave the woman a bright smile and placed the box down at your feet to greet the woman who was undoubtably one of your new neighbors. “Hello ma’am,” you said politely. Sasha was too busy drooling over the cookies in the woman’s hands.

“Please, please, call me Della.” She said, lifting the tray in her hands to present the offering to you and Sasha, who was quick to snatch the lemonade and two cookies, chewing both of them at the same time with happy hums and grumbles. You nudged her with your elbow silently scolding her for bypassing the introduction process. Della waved you off, having noticed the subtle action. “She’s absolutely fine! I’m thrilled to have someone enjoy my baking so much.”

All the same, you introduced yourself before taking your own cookie. “It’s nice to meet you Della. I’m [y/n] and this is Sasha.” You took the tray from her and placed it on one of the taller boxes so you could shake the woman’s hand. “Thank you so much for the lemonade and treats.” How on earth had the woman baked that fast? You’d only been there about two hours and these cookies were absolutely fresh out of the oven. Clearly you were living next door to a witch. A kitchen witch. You were totally okay with that so long as she directed her baking powers on you regularly.

“These are amazing.” You mumbled around a mouthful of warm cookie, the flavor sitting on your tongue for a moment, only to have your pallet cleansed by the lemonade.

Della gave a bright smile, “Well thank you dear. It’s nice to have another darling couple to bake for.”

Sasha spit out the lemonade she was sipping, her eyes popping out of her head as she coughed.

You swallowed your bite to try and keep from choking yourself. “Oh! Oh gosh no. No Sasha is just helping me move in. She’s my best friend.” You clarified calmly.

Sasha was thumping her fist to her chest in an attempt to clear her esophagus. “Connie would kill me.” She managed to choke out between wheezes.

“I think he would be down.” You murmured around another sip of lemonade, teasing her.

Della however covered her mouth, looking a little embarrassed by her assumption. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I guess I’m just so used to our other neighbors.” she trailed off, gesturing to the house on the other side of yours. You took that to mean that your other neighbors were a gay couple.

You shook your head, “Don’t worry about it!” Honestly, you were pleasantly surprised to have an older woman be so openly accepting and progressive. Having a neighbor like that wouldn’t be half bad. Especially if she made a habit of sharing her cooked concoctions.

It seemed you’d managed to move to a rather well-rounded neighborhood. It made a smile tug at your lips.

“Will you be living alone, dear?” Della asked, smoothing her hands over the apron tied around her waist. The action cause tiny plumes of flour to drift in front of her before her green eyes came up to regard you with her full attention. It must be her way to ask if you had a significant other that would be moving in alongside you. To some it may seem prying, but you didn’t blame her for wanting to know a little more about the person living right next door to her.

Nodding your head, you reached for another cookie. You probably wouldn’t have normally, sometimes you felt odd eating in front of others— it might have something to do with your negative self-image—but in this case it seemed rude to not show how much you enjoyed the treats after your neighbor slaved over them for you. So, you justified the second as you answered her question. “Yep, just me.”

Humming her understanding, Della nodded in response. “Well don’t you worry. This is a very safe neighborhood. I’ve never felt nervous living alone.” She assured you.

It was not something you’d even considered. You’d lived on your own before, in truth you just slept with a baseball bat under your bed or a heavy flashlight by your nightstand. You’d never had to use them of course, but better have it and not need it than to need it and not have it. You were confident in your ability to defend yourself. As confident as an untrained baseball bat wielder could be anyway. It’s not as though you knew martial arts.

“That’s reassuring.” You told Della with a smile who returned your kind expression. “If you ever need anything, do let me know,” she said softly, picking up the tray as you and Sasha placed your glasses on it—though she handed you the plate of cookies which was for your to consume at your leisure. “Us girls gotta stick together.” She winked, pulling a giggle from you before she gestured with her chin to your other neighbor’s home. “We’re outnumbered by boys after all.” She was just teasing but it clarified your suspicion of your other neighbors being a male couple.

“They’re very kind,” she added, “So I’m sure they’ll tell you the same. It’s a very lovely neighborhood.” She gave a little curtesy since she couldn’t wave. “I’ll let you girls get back to it!” She called as she walked back up to her driveway.

You smiled back, waving as she made her way to her home, “Thank you again! It was nice to meet you!” You raised the plate of cookies to Sasha’s view once the woman had retreated into her house after the brief welcome. “These are gonna be gone.” You whispered, walking past her to get them to the empty kitchen before you and Sasha could turn them to crumbs.

“Don’t you owe me a debt?” Sasha called after you, picking up the box the tray had once sat on top of.

You gave her a look over your shoulder. “I’m not giving you all my welcome cookies. I’m ordering pizza later.” For a moment you contemplated hiding the sweets. But that wouldn’t protect them from you. Just Sasha and her ravenous hunger. 

It took a little under an hour to get the remainder of the van emptied, without any interruptions—no matter how pleasant. Assembling the bed was a bit of a pain, as suspected, but it was the only piece of furniture you were going to rope Sasha into helping you with. You’d bought a few new pieces of furniture that were still in boxes, which made them easier to pack, but you still had to assemble them. You were confident in your ability to do so on your own. You’d put together enough furniture in your time; and Sasha had done more than enough to earn her pizza.

Thus, the remainder of the evening consisted of eating said pizza, demolishing the plate of cookies, and yelling at reality stars through the television about their actions even though they couldn’t hear you nor Sasha. Thank god you had gotten the cable hooked up day one. You at least needed internet to watch Hulu and Netflix.

Your spunky brunette friend didn’t stay too late. Bless her, she took it upon herself to take the van back to the rental facility for you so you could continue to get settled. The most important piece of furniture was already complete, ready for you to pass out on it when you gave up on the boxes.

To your credit, you managed to unpack most things that didn’t involve the furniture still needing to be assembled. In fact, you unpacked and sorted all your kitchen ware very easily. The kitchen was a good place to start because it didn’t require the rearrangement of furniture which would inevitably come with unpacking areas like your bedroom. Empty cabinets, drawers, and countertops were a blank slate that only required methodical stuffing. Most people’s kitchens were relatively similar in where cutlery went, mixing bowls, cups, pots, and pans—there was only so much variability. It wouldn’t require the careful placement needed to make a space cozy and inviting. It just had to be functional and neat.

Another aspect that made the kitchen simple was your lack of items. Again, this home was much larger than your previous residence. It had much more space for things. Things you didn’t have but would come with time. You were rather excited to shop around for new things to fill your kitchen as well as the rest of your house.

You’d also managed to unpack some knick-knacks and items that would be set on already constructed furniture, like photographs of your family and friends. One of your favorite pictures included you, Sasha, and Connie in Disneyland. Because you were never too old to enjoy Disneyland. It had been your first trip with friends instead of family when you’d reached adulthood. You smiled fondly back at the joyous photo, all of you wearing Micky Mouse ears and grinning at the camera.

Connie and Sasha were two of your closest friends and though they were together romantically they never made you feel like a third wheel. You enjoyed their company dearly. The picture would get a place of honor in the living room before you went to bed that night, concluding your first day of unpacking.

-

The next two days went by in a blur of screws, hammers, nails, bubble wrap, newspaper, and boxes as you unpacked neatly tucked items and assembled furniture that was somehow always missing a screw or two that probably wasn’t important to the overall design anyway. Hopefully, the instructions were more like guidelines. So long as the furniture was sturdy and looked the way it did in the picture, it was fine. A lot of it was place holder furniture anyway. Rather cheap IKEA stuff that would serve to fill space and allow storage as you’d slowly accumulate nicer goods overtime.

It was a process, you reminded yourself, and the home wouldn’t be perfect or look like a catalog home right off the bat. It was what your mother had told you as well when you told her you were buying your first home. Her encouragement and soothing words also helped to keep you grounded much like the techniques you were still learning and utilizing from your time in therapy.

You’d hardly been out of the house since Friday when you first moved in and in spite of your fatigue caused by tedious unpacking, you were itching to start work on the front yard.

Not the backyard. 

That was an adventure you weren’t ready for. You didn’t have an idea mapped out for that yet and weren’t going to spin out trying to construct a plan for it. The backyard would be last. Mainly because that was going to be a big project. It wasn’t poorly maintained, but it was empty. It had a nice lawn, much like the front yard, but that was it.

A blank slate almost overwhelmed you more. It allowed too many options. When you were ready, you’d likely ask the opinion of your parents or friends. Picking their brain for ideas would be helpful and take some of the burden of decisions from your shoulders.

But that was another day, likely many weeks from where you stood now.

Where you stood now was The Home Depot, in the gardening section, looking over the flowers, shrubs, pots, and yard décor they had to offer.

As you promised yourself earlier, you picked up some purple pansies, leaving every other flower and shrubbery up to the whimsy of your mood. Once you had enough plant life to fill the sparce areas of your new home you picked out a few more gardening essentials that you were severely lacking in. Such as gardening gloves, a trowel, and a small bag of soil to fill the few cute pots you would put on the front porch containing succulents. Because succulents were hard to kill—and admittedly you were still a bit green regarding the whole gardening thing.

Pun very much intended.

You snorted at your own stupid joke.

People looked at you in the checkout line.

You looked away, chagrinned.

Quickly, you paid for your greenery items and scurried out to your car. You would start planting right when you got home. It was still early in the morning, hardly 9:00 am. Way earlier than you liked to get up if you were being honest. But, if you started now you could get most of it done before it got too hot.

-

This was Mike’s favorite way to start the morning. With his heart pounding in his ears to the tune of his running mix, his nose filled with the fresh scent of the creek’s running water, and his bare shoulders gently warmed by the sunlight dancing through the canopy of trees overhead.

Almost every day before work, Mike would jog down to the creek trail not far from the house, enjoy the scenery, make a loop or two around the two mile-long path, and then jog home. It was a routine that never changed. He’d been doing it for years now and the consistency was part of what grounded him. He would credit his morning run with assisting in coping with his PTSD. Going without triggered his anxiety and instantly set a poor tone for his day. As such, his boyfriends were good about allowing him to untangle from the sheets every morning, despite one not being a morning person—because he hardly slept in the first place— and the other being a bit of a cuddlier, though he would insist Mike was the cuddlier. Not himself. 

A smile tugged at Mike’s lips at the memory. He wiped his sweating brow with his shirt which was draped around his neck rather than on his body. He’d discarded it early in his run in favor of feeling the light breeze tickle over his bare torso.

His breathing changed as dirt road turned back into concrete when he turned from the creek trail back onto the sidewalk of the main streets of his neighborhood, making his way towards home.

As home came into view, his jog slowed to a walk, allowing his muscles to feel the rush of blood flow under his skin, the tingling throb of adrenaline cycling through his system becoming more noticeable with the shift of pace. Mike’s arms stretched over his head before bending at the joints. His hands folded behind his skull just under the knot of his blonde hair—the half up hairstyle keeping his shaggy bangs out of his face.

Getting closer to his home, he noticed a difference in the normally consistent pattern of houses along the street. A person was in the yard of the house beside his. Their old neighbor had never spent time tending to the yard. He hummed a curious sound. He hadn’t yet had the opportunity to introduce himself to their new neighbor. The “for sale” sign had been taken down days ago, and he vaguely remembered the presence of a moving van without occupants when he’d left for work that Friday.

Mike pulled his phone from his pocket, pausing his music before taking out one of his earphones as he got closer to the house. Though his own music was silenced, a new tune hit his ears, getting louder the closer he got to the kneeling form. The music wasn’t so loud that he would have to yell over it—he could probably clear his throat and the stranger would hear him.

With every intention to politely do just that, he opened his lips and—

Stopped dead in his tracks the moment he got behind the stranger because of what he was greeted by.

There you were, in front of him, on your hands and knees, back arched and your body at an incline as you dug the hole in front of you. But that’s not what got his attention. It was that your legging covered ass was perfectly on display, high in the air, round and inviting.

Mike stood there; mouth partially agape without realizing it. It was a few moments of ogling before he could take in more than that. He picked up your gentle voice, humming to the tune of what was playing on your portable speaker, he picked up the scent of flowers and damp earth, and he picked up on your doe like eyes wide with surprise. It was only then he noticed you had turned around away from your project, hand on your heart as you let out a yelp of surprise at finding someone standing behind you.

A giant standing behind you.

“H-hello…” you murmured, collecting yourself as you moved to turn down your music to a gentle background noise. 

Mike was able to take that time to gather himself. He quickly closed his mouth, clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his neck. The man made a conscious effort not to stare, though now that he could see your face it was becoming even more difficult. A cute face to go with a nice ass. A blush dusted his cheeks. Hopefully covered by the sun kissed pigment of his skin.

God willing.

“Uh sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He lifted his hand not currently on the back of his neck, pointing to the house to his left, the one with the magnolia tree. “M’name’s Mike Zacharias, I live next door.” He put on a smile though it was no less sheepish than his previous expression. “I hadn’t had the chance to introduce myself yet.” He was thankful to have a cover up to his staring.

You paused for a long moment, the gears in your head almost audible—then recognition flashed over your face. Part of you was trying to recall the conversation you’d had with Della on move in day, the other part was mesmerized by the husky voice.

The sudden brightness that filled in your eyes when you smiled had Mike’s heart in his throat.

“Oh! Yes,” Pulling yourself up to standing, you rubbed your palms together to brush off the dirt and then pulled off one of your gardening gloves, extending a clean hand to him. “I’m [y/n] [l/n]. It’s nice to meet you.” You were extremely eager to make a good impression on your neighbors. You thought you had done a pretty good job with Della—though her cookie offering had done most of the work for you. It was imperative you get along with Mike and his partner. After all, you’d gotten very lucky with most of your neighbors throughout your life. Most of that was due to your parents. Your mother was friendly, polite, and warm. Your father was boisterous, funny, and generous. You strived to offer the same mix to your neighbors and have a good relationship.

You had seen enough episodes of “Fear Thy Neighbor” to understand that a poor relationship on either side of you could wreck an otherwise comfortable home life.

Of course, “Fear Thy Neighbor” was the most dramatic of examples often leading to violence and murder.

You should probably stop watching the ID channel.

Stick to the stupid reality shows.

Mike swallowed thickly, the dusted pink in his cheeks brightening. His large palm engulfed yours and it was as if his blush traveled from his face, down his arm, through your hands and up to your own cheeks. His hand was huge, it practically swallowed yours. Your palm was completely swaddled by the deceptively gentle squeeze of a rough hand, slight calluses made firm by some sort of labor you couldn’t name.

With your surprise having warn off from the initial contact you found yourself fully registering the man in front of you—

And holy shit if your brain didn’t almost immediately short circuit again.

First of all, he was a giant. Already established—but something you didn’t truly comprehend until you’d stood and fully approached him from your botany project. If you dug the hole you were working on a little deeper, you were pretty sure you could plant Mike up to his knees and he’d continue growing into the tree he so clearly was.

Second of all there was his face which was generously exposed by his tied back dark blond hair. Hazelly-green eyes, pronounced nose—that fit him perfectly, and a strong jaw lightly bearded along it as well as his upper lip.

Your eyes followed the curve of his jaw down his neck, past his broad shoulders and onto a sparsely haired chest just where his defined pectorals met. If you followed the path from his chest down to his toned stomach, which you absolutely did, you found the same light etching of hair extending from his navel down to his—

Your eyes quickly darted back up to his face, your own heating up substantially as your hands all too soon disconnected. 

Mike placed his hands on his hips which served to flex his strong arms and momentarily distract you again.

If you could have slapped yourself subtly, you would have done so. But with those hazel eyes boring into you, you settled for mentally berating your thirst. ‘Get it together woman. He’s taken… and gay.’ But gay came second to taken. It was important to respect a preexisting relationship. It was important to respect sexuality too.

But—

You could look, right? No harm in looking. That’s why people went to museums. To drool over the Statue of David.

That throaty voice pulled you back to focus. “So, is it just you?” If you weren’t completely sure that the man in front of you was gay, the question would have sounded hopeful.

He must have just been asking so he could introduce himself to any other potential newcomers.

“Yep just me. It’s my first house.” He didn’t ask for that second part, but you were proud. You were proud of having your own home and doing so alone. You didn’t have to depend on anyone to get to this important step in your life. That wasn’t something many people could say. You weren’t trying to brag—it was just that residual excitement of having achieved one of your life goals.

Mike to his credit seemed excited for you. His eyebrows raised, as if impressed. Buying a home was getting harder and harder for every generation. Though he didn’t seem too much older than you. Probably in his early 30’s. Even if he were ten years older than you that would be a generational gap and that meant the struggles to find a home were different between the two of you. However, you didn’t think he could be that much older than you considering you were in the later part of your 20’s. 30’s seeming to creep ever closer. But seeing Mike reminded you that your 30’s didn’t make you old in the slightest. The more you looked at Mike, the better your 30’s looked. Because fuck if Mike wasn’t fine as hell.

You were thinking too far ahead again, this time years.

To pull yourself from your spinning thoughts, you looked back at Mike’s face. The smile momentarily dazed you. Because of course he would also have perfect teeth. “Congratulations, that’s wonderful.” He murmured, looking to your house for a moment and then back at you. The house was rather large for one person. “No significant other chomping at the bit to invade your space yet?” The tone was teasing, and you managed a laugh which dispelled your previously spiraling thoughts. God, sometimes you didn’t even notice when they were spiraling.

Mike seemed interested in your relationship status. It put little butterflies in your stomach which were squashed when you looked down at yourself. Even if Mike were interested in females, why would he be interested in you?

You growled internally at those disparaging thoughts to shut the fuck up. You counted to three in your head, a brief distraction from those thoughts used to ground you in the present.

Normally, you preferred your longer methods of distraction, like your colors. However, those weren’t feasible when in the middle of a conversation with your hot neighbor.

“Nope, no boyfriend or anything. Just me and maybe a dog or a cat at some point.” You grinned at the idea, reminding yourself that now that you had your own home no one could tell you if you could have a pet or not. No landlord, no parent, no roommate—no permission needed.

The twinkle in Mike’s eye was easily missed. “My votes’ for a cat,” he murmured offhandedly.

“Not a dog fan?” You asked playfully. Though maybe he was worried about you having a yappy dog that he would have to listen to all day. Understandable.

“No, I like dogs too,” Did his voice get a little deeper? “Just always been fond of kittens.” His eyes slid over you, a smile tugging at his lips that made your blush from earlier give an encore performance.

‘Taken. And. Gay.’ You reminded yourself, willing the blush to dissipate and scolding yourself for reading too much into his gaze. Schooling your expression with the same friendly smile you’d given Della; you nodded your head. “Well I’ll just have to drag you along when I adopt one, then you can play with some pussy.”

Oh lord.

That was a Freudian slip if there ever was one.

You felt your face go hot and resisted the overwhelming compulsion to connect your palm to your forehead. Inappropriate joke for a first meeting—for sure.

Mike’s eyes flashed with something you couldn’t name, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I’ll take you up on that,” he grinned, and the expression was playful, putting you a bit more at ease. “It’s been far too long since I’ve played with a cute pussy.”

Your thighs squeezed together. Unnoticeably, you prayed.

Mike must have been messing with your somewhat unintentional word choice. Though you were happy that Mike seemed to be the lighthearted type. You could see yourself forming a friendship with the man. Hopefully, his boyfriend (husband?) was half as laid back.

You also hopped his partner was half as sexy.

Because if he was just as sexy as Mike, you were going to suffer a heat stroke.

The giant grinned, tilting his head to gesture to his home. “I gotta get ready for work.” Was it your imagination or did he look a bit reluctant? His grin was back in place too soon to really tell. You nodded your head politely with a little wave just before he turned away.

“It was nice to meet you.” You called, getting back on your knees next to the little pit you’d dug for your shrub.

The blond looked over his strong shoulder as he made his way down the sidewalk and threw you a very obvious wink. “Catch ya later, kitten.” He replied before he rounded his driveway and walked up to his front door, giving you one more glance and disappearing inside the much larger home.

Blinking, you sat frozen for a few moments before your eyes drifted to the hole beside you. Maybe if you dug it a bit deeper you could bury yourself in it.

Because Mike was surely going to be the death of you.

-

When Mike got back into the house, he had to lean against the door, tilting his head back to let the cooling air of the AC drench his heated skin. Though at this point the heat was less from his run and more from the cute new neighbor. It took everything in his power not to pin you to the dirt right there. He let out a little groan, hardly audible.

But just audible enough.

A voice, smooth as honey called from around the corner. “Mike? You alright?”

Mike hummed an affirmative and pushed himself off the door to make his way to the kitchen where the voice was coming from. If he didn’t answer right away, he knew the male would come searching for him and instantly begin to drill him on his mental state. There was no need for that.

His mental state was good. Very good this morning.

His large palm came up to slide over the marble of the kitchen island as he bypassed it to get to the fridge, sticking his head in for longer than necessary to retrieve a water bottle. A soft crack filled the room as he twisted the cap, breaking the seal as he turned to face the kitchen table. Two sets of eyes peered over at him. One set a bright blue; the color of the ocean, the other a stormy grey sky.

The honey voice spoke again, the blue eyes having been peering behind a newspaper completely revealed by its placement on the table. “Good run I take it?”

“Looks a little too happy about a run, Erwin.” The stormy eyed male murmured from behind a teacup held at the rim.

Mike smirked a little. Levi always was perceptive. They both were. But Levi noticed subtleties far more quickly than Erwin did. “I met our new neighbor.” He brought the opening of the bottle to his lips, letting the chilled liquid sooth his throat of the dryness from his run.

“Oh?” Erwin asked, leaning back in his seat and tilting his head back as a silent hint for Mike to lean down to him. Levi was good at noticing subtleties, but Mike was good at reading hints. He leaned down and pressed his lips to Erwin’s, his own cool and water glazed compared to Erwin’s soft and warm ones. “Mm hm,” He confirmed while righting himself. “And Levi,” Mike moved to the other side of the table, tilting Levi’s head back with a fingertip to direct his gaze to him which had been glued upon the novel in his left hand. The ravenette looked up from his book with the giant’s prompting, gaze aloof and seemingly disinterested. However, the look in Mike’s eyes gave him pause.

Since Mike knew Levi, really knew him, he noticed the curiosity lingering behind that seemingly blank expression.

Mike pecked his lips to the shorter male’s, whispering against them. “She’d be perfect.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna wait until I was more done with chapter 3-- but I have no self control.

A groan left your lips. You were so sore. Who knew that gardening could make someone so sore? Your legs and forearms ached from digging, weeding, and kneeling in the dirt. But the payoff had been near instantaneous. Your little front yard garden was so cute. Time would tell if it would thrive. For now, it was just what you wanted. It was welcoming, and warm; evidence that a new person lived in the house.

“Just gotta keep my flower children from dying.” You mumbled out loud against your pillow. It took great effort to turn your head and face the light shining through your blinds. It was early again. It was shocking you hadn’t been sleeping in late given how busy you were. It was safe to assume it was the excited jitters that came with being a new homeowner. Each day brought a new project. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath through your nose, willing yourself to settle your thoughts before they started to list all the things you wanted to do to your house. For now, you settled on nurturing your flower children.

Good ‘ol Google had informed you that you should water your plants every day when you first put them in the ground to get them used to their new home. After that you could settle on a watering routine.

You pushed one foot out of bed, testing the air with your toes like you would a pool, and then groaned, pulling your foot back under the warm safety of the blanket. For a moment you contemplated going back to sleep, but vanquished the idea when the morning sun assaulted your eyes again.

With a determined huff, you threw the covers from your body, taking the plunge into the day. It took you a moment of stretching to drag yourself over to your dresser and throw some clothes on the bed. Something comfortable. You weren’t planning to go out anywhere today, just outside for as long as it took to water your front yard, then you would likely retreat to the comfort of your home. You had a few more boxes to unpack anyway.

After you slipped your clothes on, you made your way down the stairs to your kitchen, petite—but still bigger than your previous. It was the perfect size for a single occupant. In spite of not being hungry in the morning, you forced yourself to make breakfast, hoping the smell of scrambled eggs would coax you into eating by the time it was done. You often skipped out on meals, which was a problem. Perhaps it was one of the reasons for your thickness. Skipping meals could be just as bad as overeating, forcing your body to unhealthily accommodate for the bad habits. It could also be a trigger for overeating later in the day. One of your goals of a new home was to adopt a routine, which included eating regularly.

You spooned your meal onto your plate, adding some toast to it as you made your way to the window of the living room that overlooked your front yard. You yanked open the blinds, eyeing your garden as you lifted toast to your mouth and took a bite. Thankfully, the new plants hadn’t spontaneously combusted in the night. Something you assumed happened if you didn’t have a green thumb.

Noticing movement from the corner of your eye, you turned your head, seeing your neighbor getting into a clean, and rather new looking, truck in an army green color. Mike must have been going to work. You smiled, resisting the urge to wave. He probably wouldn’t have seen you anyway. Moving back to the kitchen table, you sat down to eat your breakfast before placing your dishes in the sink, opting to scrub them later. For now, you’d let them soak. Did they need to soak? No. But letting them soak gave you an excuse to avoid doing them for a few hours until they stared you down later.

Slipping on your shoes, you walked outside and unwrapped the hose from its coil, turning on the spray and providing your plants with much needed sustenance. You started with your potted plants, being reserved with the amount of water you gave your succulents before making your way down the stretch of dirt to the north of your lawn that your new shrubs and flowers called home. You watered your shrubs generously, pausing as you reach your pansies. You glared down at them, some of the flowers had actually had the audacity to wilt slightly. Giving a huff, you changed the function of your hose nozzle, making the flow far gentler as you crouched to examine them more closely.

“If you could not do that, that would be great.” You mumbled at the ungrateful cluster of flowers, eyeing a particularly sad looking petal.

“Flowers being disobedient?” You flinched at the smooth voice and stood right up, turning around quickly. If you hose had been on a higher function you would have sprayed the source. Opting not to take any chances, you quickly moved to stop the flow of water with the switch on the attachment.

You weren’t adequately prepared for what greeted you when you leveled your gaze on the source of the voice. Though after yesterday, maybe you really shouldn’t have been all that surprised. This man was nearly as tall, though not as brawny as your new acquaintance Mike. He had golden hair the color of wheat, and eyes that put oceans to shame under a pair of thick brows. You swallowed, taking note of his jawline and the expanse of his fit torso which was snuggly clad in a white button down. You didn’t realize you could hold contempt for a shirt—but with the sleeves rolled up a pair of strong forearms, it was clear the shirt was hiding impressive goods.

Damn every man in this neighborhood must have been a stud. You weren’t particularly religious, but you felt the urge to praise god for the blessing.

Though he’d probably just strike your down for the unholy thoughts going through your head. 

The clearing of a throat brought your eyes back up to the blond man’s face where a smile sat, not the smirk you’d expected from your obvious ogling. “I’m Erwin Smith. I’m your neighbor.”

“Ah, sorry!” you said quickly, setting the hose down by your tennis shoe clad feet. You wiped your palm as discreetly as you could over your thigh to clear it of moisture from the hose and extended it to him. “Nice to meet you, I’m [y/n].” This hand was soft, but all consuming as Mike’s had been.

Mike.

You suddenly remembered, stopping your handshake abruptly to point to what you assumed was the man’s house. “You’re Mike’s boyfriend?” You probably shouldn’t have blurted that; in case you were wrong. After all, Della had made assumptions about you and Sasha the day you’d moved in. But the stranger, Erwin, only tilted his head and chuckled. “Did he mention me? All good things I hope.” His tone was deceptively casual.

“Uh, no,” you mumbled in embarrassment, clearing your own throat this time as a blush rose to your cheeks. “Della told me there was a couple next door.”

Erwin hummed, a deep and satisfying sound, and nodded his head, though in the next breath he’d seamlessly dodged the question. “Della is such a kind woman. Did she bake for you?”

You smiled brightly, remembering the cookies, and not noticing his lack of confirmation. You’d already drawn your conclusions. “Yeah, the cookies were amazing. I’ve got a theory that she’s a witch.” Oops, word vomit. You were worried that male wouldn’t understand you were joking, but he laughed—to your relief.

“When we moved in, she made a cake.” He leaned in closer to you, his voice just above a whisper, “She might be looking to fatten us up and eat us, so be on guard.”

This pulled a giggle from you, and oh what a pleasant sound to Erwin’s ears, “If Hansel and Gretel could handle it, I think we’ll be okay.” The scent of Erwin’s cologne filled your nose, musk and mahogany flooding your senses and the hint of something else too. Ink maybe.

“I sure hope so,” Erwin leaned back, out of your space, “I would hate to lose our new neighbor so soon.”

Biting your lower lip, you took in air that wasn’t saturated with the blonde’s heady scent.

“Yeah, who would care for my flower children if I died so soon?” You teased, gesturing behind you to the new plants which for the most part looked healthy in spite of the stubborn pansies which seemed hell bent on making your life a little more difficult. The last thing you needed to worry about where flowers. Though your anxiety was probably delighted to have yet another thing to obsess over.

You compared your anxiety to a super villain—someone lingering in the shadows and waiting for the smallest display of weakness through your progress—poised to strike.

Erwin’s blue eyes slid over the greenery before looking up at you. “We’d adopt them for you. No need to worry.” You looked over to Erwin’s home where the lovely magnolia tree grew. Their garden didn’t have as many plants with flowers, but what plants were there were clearly well taken care of. It was mostly green, though the magnolia tree added the perfect little pop of color to an otherwise verdant front yard. “At least I know they’d be going to a good home.”

The male chuckled, a sound that hummed from deep in that fit chest. “Can’t take all the credit. Mike takes care of the yard occasionally, but we leave most of it to the gardener.”

Of course, they would have a gardener. Their house was large and immaculate, and in addition to Mike’s well-maintained truck, it was hard to miss the Mercedes currently parked in the driveway. Clearly Mike and Erwin had well-paying jobs. “A plant nanny.” You deadpanned, earning another chuckle from Erwin who’s smile turned fond.

“We’d love to have you over for dinner. We’d like to properly welcome you to the neighborhood.”

You were taken aback for a moment, anxiety flooding your stomach on instinct. The thoughts were instantaneous. ‘What if I make a fool of myself?’, ‘What if I spill a drink?’, ‘What if I eat too much in front of them?’, ‘What if I say something wrong?’, ‘What if—’

A deep breath through your nose.

A subtle exhale from your mouth.

The thoughts were quieted.

Another deep breath through your nose.

Another subtle exhale from your mouth.

Your heart rate significantly lowered.

“I’d like that very much.” You answered before your thoughts could creep in again and dispel your nerve.

You weren’t going to let your anxiety keep you from experiences, especially making friends with your neighbors. You knew if you stopped to think on it deeply you would psych yourself out with overthinking the kind offer and ultimately decline. Best not to let your anxiety or self-consciousness rule your decisions. Therapy had taught you that.

Erwin looked pleased with your answer, his smile touching his blue eyes.

“Wonderful,” he purred, reaching into the pocket of his black slacks to hand you his phone, “Put your number in, if you wouldn’t mind,” he added the last bit to make it less of a command and more of a suggestion, “I’ll text you a date.” You smiled and tapped your name and number into the contacts of his phone, adding a flower emoji just as a playful wink to your conversation before handing the cellphone back to his waiting hand. “Sounds good.”

The male’s smile didn’t fade as he slipped the phone back in his pocket. “I’ll text you later.” He promised, making you return his smile. Though that should have triggered a bit more nervousness, anticipating a text, instead it just put little butterflies in your stomach. Yeah, he was gay—and taken, you reminded yourself again—but you could have attractive friends that were nice to look at. You were allowed to get excited over a little dinner date, no matter how platonic.

As Erwin moved in the direction of his Mercedes, he looked over his shoulder at you. “Don’t be too hard on your flowers,” he fished out his key fob, clicking the button to unlock his car, “It can be hard adapting to a new home.”

Smiling, you leaned down and picked up the hose, clicking the water back on and misting it gently over the pansies once again for good measure, hoping to perk up the wilting petals. “It helps to have someone to pamper you though.” You mumbled absentmindedly, earning a little glance from Erwin before the blond got into his car and sped off down the road.

-

You thought you had made yourself perfectly clear to yourself that the backyard was not a priority. But after unpacking a few more boxes of miscellaneous objects late into the afternoon, it just seemed to call to you.

You stood at your sink in your kitchen, looking out into the yard from the window as you nibbled on a bite of your lazily made sandwich. Your small kitchen table had already been set up so it’s not like you had to stand to eat any of your meals, but it seemed even when eating you had to pace. You blamed the new environment. It would take time to get comfortable, just like Erwin had said about your flowers. Even though you were excited and loved your new home, it was taking your time to adjust.

Your eyes narrowed as you looked over the yard, as though you were trying to imagine it looking differently than it currently did. You had a rather vivid imagination, you read quite a bit after all, but when it came to mental landscaping you were coming up short. The only reason you were able to spruce up your front yard without much deep consideration was because there was a plot of dirt already prime for flowers. It just lacked anything in it. Picking some things to fill the void hadn’t required a great deal of mental fortitude. The backyard was different.

It wasn’t exactly a mess, but it wasn’t a marvel either. It was a blank canvas of untapped potential—and weeds. A slightly overgrown lawn, lack of any interesting plant life, and boarder of dirt that was begging for flowers much as the front yard had. But you weren’t ready for the amount of plant life the backyard could hold. Being a new plant mother, you needed time to hone your skills. The front yard was plenty for now.

Even so, you couldn’t keep yourself from glaring at the backyard. Maybe it was because it glared back at you from every window. You wanted to look outside and see something pleasing to the eye. Why did hyper fixation always go hand-in-hand with anxiety? You tapped your foot against the floor and chewed your food, willing the nervous energy to dispel.

Fuck it.

You could pluck the weeds.

That might help until you could really bring yourself to get into the project that it would someday be. Besides, you should really keep up on the yard even before fixing it so that it wasn’t more of a hassle in the long run. Weeding it would be a good start, and it might make looking through your windows a bit less bothersome.

You placed your crumb covered plate into the sink and made your way through the sliding glass door to the backyard, taking a little detour to drag the green’s can from the side yard so you would have somewhere to put the weeds after you ripped their stubborn carcasses from the ground.

The poor bastards had no idea what was coming.

Taking a look around you, you once again crinkled your nose in contemplation. At least the lawn was mostly green. It didn’t look as though the previous owner had used the yard for storage or trash. It really didn’t look like the previous owner had used it for much of anything. They clearly couldn’t have been bothered to do much more than turn on the sprinklers, just like the front yard. You narrowed your eyes and scanned the environment, once again trying to channel your creative side. All you could think about were plants for the most part. You weren’t even all that plant crazy until recently. It was just the first thing that came to mind when you thought of the outdoors. You huffed through your nose. Maybe a deck at some point? That would cost money. You sure as hell were not going to build one yourself. IKEA furniture was the extent of your carpentry skills. At least the fence looked pretty good, spare for a hole like crack in one of the planks on the left side of the wall. That should be easy enough to fix. Surely it wouldn’t require the establishment of a whole new fence so at least you’d save some money there.

You gave up your attempt at visualization to pull your gardening gloves onto your hands. You’d take to some online forums for backyard ideas when the time was right. You had to remind yourself that right now you were just focusing on battling the weeds.

You tried to go at it methodically, you really did. You were going to start at one end of the yard and make your way to the other. But each time you bent down to pluck one weed you’d see a huge one from the corner of your eye at the other end of the yard that would distract you. You’d pluck that one, then there would be another at the side of the yard you’d just came from so you’d have to go back again. Pretty soon you were just hopping from whatever weed assaulted your eyes to the next, which mainly consisted of the big ones that had no right existing in the first place.

You were going to kick yourself later when you had to revert back to your original method of going from one end of the yard to the other when it came time to sift through the smaller weeds—but for now the satisfaction that came from yanking the big suckers out of the earth gave you too much momentary euphoria to care. That would be a problem for your future self.

For now, your newest target was spotted. A huge weed growing along the fence line. The number of squats you were inadvertently doing in your quest to de-weed the yard was going to hurt you tomorrow. It was kind of hurting you now. Turning your legs to Jell-O. But you were determined to vanquish every form of unsavory vegetation before sunset. You’d use tomorrow as a day of rest if it came to that.

It was probably going to come to that. Gardening was proving to be a workout in itself.

Pulling yourself to standing, you walked over to the weed by the fence and crouched down, gripping it and giving a firm tug around the stock. But the titan weed hardly budged. You arched a brow and wrapped your other hand around it, tugging once more. You swore the weed pulled back as you rocked on your heels. Frustrated, you sat yourself on your knees and leaned back, trying to use your body weight to get the massive bulb from the earth with a grunt.

At least, you thought you grunted.

Wait that wasn’t you.

You paused; your hands still wrapped around the weed as you stayed frozen in mid tug.

There was another grunt in a masculine tone— which most certainly did not come from you.

“Goddamn it…” The voice was deep, dripping with a sort of smooth roughness that was a complete contradiction that only made sense from hearing it firsthand. It was the sort of tone that held an edge in any words that came from it. In spite of it coming from the direction of your neighbor’s yard, it was not a voice you’d heard before. You were sure you would have remembered it.

“Erwin—fuck!” There it was again.

“Shh…” That second voice you thought you recognized. Finally, your head darted up from your place on your knees out of instinct. You were eye level with the rough hole in the plank you’d noticed earlier that exposed your neighbor’s yard.

And much more than that.

From your viewpoint you could see the edge of a pool, lush plants, a deck further back—but the lovely yard wasn’t what pulled your attention. What pulled your attention was two people on a lounge chair, one propped up by the lifted back, the other straddling across strong hips.

The person sitting back on the lounge was obviously Erwin, naked as the day he was born in the late afternoon sun. Your assumption had been right about his torso. It was in fact sculpted by the hands of god, all firm muscle and definition. You could vaguely make out light traces of hair on it from your distance, what little there was must have been as blond as he was.

However, this isn’t what struck you the most about what you were seeing. Though it was a sight to behold. What struck you the most was that the person in his lap—

Was not Mike.

Your lips parted in a silent gasp, lashes fluttering as if you could wash the other figure away and replace it with Mike. But the person on Erwin’s lap couldn’t be more different and there was no way in hell to confuse the two even with the most vivid of imaginations. 

He was smaller, clearly shorter, with a body that was muscular on its own but far more lithe than the bulkier form of Mike. It was hard to see his face at the angle you were given. The lounge was not exactly parallel to the break in the fence, giving an angle that displayed a view of the sinewy back of the stranger, as well as their stark black hair, but no hint to their face in the slightest. But you could see Erwin’s, twisted in pleasure, and even at a distance it was obvious what was taking place.

Swallowing thickly, your eyes drifted down the stranger’s back to a pert round ass currently stuffed with Erwin—which from what little you could see not buried inside, was not an easy adjustment.

“Fuck me harder.” Came that deep voice once again, a commanding growl for more as his hips rolled down on the intruding length.

Erwin grunted, his fingers digging into the man’s waist in a white-knuckle grip as he bucked himself up, thrusting himself into the ravenette. “Beg for it then.” He bit back in a grunt, it seemed to be taking a great deal of effort to keep from fulfilling the request, if his clenching palms and strained voice were anything to go by.

The man on top of Erwin scoffed, lifting his body and sitting himself right back down on his lap, forcing the cock deep inside him before rocking his hips forward and back, pulling a moan from Erwin. “When have I ever begged?” His tone was deceptively even for what he was doing— as if taking that massive length was the easiest thing in the world. Perhaps something he did regularly.

You weren’t so sure you would be able to keep an even tone had you been in the raven’s place even if it had been the hundredth time.

A smirk played on the blonde’s lips, “First time for everything.” You thought you heard, but the voice was quiet, perhaps suddenly conscious that they were outside.

Pale fingers slid up the plains of Erwin’s chest to coil around his neck. “I’ll take it myself.” The black-haired male growled, steadying himself on his knees before he started to bounce on the cock inside him. He pulled himself up, nearly taking the shaft out of his hole before slamming himself back down, muted moans pulling from him each time he forced himself down on the lap with a lewd slapping of skin.

It was at that moment that the weed in your hand snapped, sending you backwards with a yelp. You’d lost your balance, your butt making contact with the soles of your shoes as you plopped down completely on your knees from your previously raised position on them. Ditching the weed, you crawled away from the hole in a panic and covered your mouth with your hand as though you could turn back time and capture the yelp that was already in the air.

It wasn’t until you were a good seven feet from the fence that you allowed yourself to listen for any sound. There was silence for a long while other than your rapidly thumping heart under your palm while you attempted to keep it in your chest. It was only when you heard the faint and distant sound of skin on skin, a sound you’d only hear if you’d known to listen for it, that you allowed yourself to breath. You pulled your mouth shut, not realizing how long it’d been hanging open. You’d probably swallowed a bug or two in your stupor. You couldn’t be sure.

Feeling your pulse throb between your legs, you whined softly, squeezing your thighs together and biting your bottom lip as guilt washed over you. The guilt was rather misdirected, at least it should have been. But you’d felt it for a variety of reasons. The hallow yet heavy sensation sat deep in your chest. You’d peeped on your neighbor, accident or not, a total invasion of privacy. What made it worse was the wetness steadily forming at your core. You’d peeped like a horny teenager and gotten turned on by it.

If the guild from that wasn’t enough—you’d gotten turned on, meanwhile Mike was being cheated on.

That last part stung the most.

Erwin was cheating on Mike.

-

You paced back and forth in your living room, the tip of your thumb in your lips so you could bite at your nail—a habit you’d thought you’d long since kicked.

How on how on earth were you going to tell Mike that he was being cheated on? Should you tell him at all? Was it really your place?

These where the questions stirring in your mind as you paced. If you continued to traverse one end of your living room to the other, you would likely ware a rut in your flooring.

Plucking your thumb from your mouth, you stilled your feet and pulled your phone from the pocket of your leggings, tapping away on the technological rectangle to bring up Sasha’s number. It was times like this where you needed to get out of your head. So, in these moments you often talked out your thoughts with Sasha. It was the only way to get out of the infinite circle your pondering often became.

_‘If you were being cheated on, would you want someone to tell you?’_

It wasn’t ten seconds after you sent the text than those little ellipsis came on the screen to indicate your friend was already typing out a reply.

_‘What do you know?’_

You brought up the keyboard of your phone to explain, but another message quickly followed.  


_‘Is Connie cheating on me?’_

_‘I’m gonna serve him in the burgers.’_

_‘I’m Sweeney Todd-ing this bitch.’_

You had to type faster to cut her off. Maybe starting the message like that hadn’t been your wisest move. 

_‘No!’_

_‘No!’_

You sent the message twice when you saw the ellipsis raise on your screen again, being sure she saw your reply so you could clearly explain. 

_‘Not you or Connie! I’m talking about my neighbors.’_

_‘Oh’._

She wrote back, a momentary pause before adding, 

_‘Don’t tell Connie about me making him into burgers.’_

This pulled a smile from you and curbed your anxiety, allowing your heart to still. Leave it to Sasha to calm your nerves with her naturally comedic personality. 

_'Anyway, what happened?’_

Well that calm was short lived. You remained standing in case you had to get the nervous energy out by pacing again. 

_‘I met the neighbors. The ones Della told us about when we were moving me in, remember?’_

It only took a second for Sasha to text back—she was fast with her fingers even though she had had the same shitty phone for close to 3 years. Only shitty because of the cracked screen that she had more than enough money to fix, but always complained if she got a new one, she would just drop it anyway. You were fairly sure the phone also had a little dent in it, she said it added character. 

_‘Yeah.’_

_‘They hot?’_

_‘Ridiculously.’_

_‘Niiice.’_

You typed hastily to try and stay on topic. 

_‘Their names are Mike and Erwin.’_

_‘And they’re hot.’_

You snorted but continued typing, trying not to let your thoughts linger on how attractive both the men were. That wasn’t was the discussion was about. You cut to the chase. 

_‘I accidentally saw Erwin having sex with someone that was NOT Mike.’_

The reply actually took a full minute, though it wasn’t long, an indicator that Sasha had probably typed a few different replies but deleted them until settling on what it was she did send. 

_‘How did you ACCIDENTALLY see that?’_

You could hear the accusatory tone through the little blue bubble that held her words. 

_‘I was in the backyard and I heard a sound and I ACCIDENTALLY looked through a hole in the fence.’_

Reading that back—it really did sound like you were some kind of voyeur. 

_‘It really was an accident. I was weeding.’_

____

These excuses were completely pitiful, and you were the one writing them. 

____

_‘So did you accidentally get a good look at who he was screwing?’_

____

_‘I only saw his back.’_

____

It was only half a lie. You saw his strong back, his black hair, and an amazing ass. 

____

_‘Was he hot?’_

____

Maybe texting Sasha wasn’t as productive as you originally thought. 

____

_‘It was a very nice back.’_

____

An understatement if there ever was one. You hastily added to the message. 

____

_‘But that’s not the point. It wasn’t Mike. Now I don’t know if I should tell Mike or if I should just mind my business.’_

____

On the one hand, you wanted to have a good relationship with your neighbors, and who they were and were not sleeping with was not something you should be concerning yourself with. Injecting yourself into their love life was something you didn’t feel you had the right to do, especially because you hardly knew the two of them. 

____

On the other hand, you thought about how much it hurt to be cheated on. You imagined Mike, blissfully unaware that the love of his life was sleeping with someone else in their own home and it made your heart sink into the pit of your stomach. You ached for him. 

____

_‘Are you 100% sure that you saw what you think you saw?’_

____

Taking a moment to recall the memory, a blush creeped up your neck and right up to your face. You shook you head to will the images away, once again ashamed of the heat it stirred between your legs. 

____

_‘Yeah. It was clear.’_

____

There was no way to mistake what you saw. They weren’t nude sunbathing, they weren’t naked cuddling, and there was no way the other guy just fell on Erwin’s dick. 

____

This time it took Sasha more than two minutes to answer. She must have been thinking. Maybe even asking Connie what he thought. You hopped not. Connie and Sasha may not have known your neighbors, but you also didn’t want to gossip about them. You honestly just needed your friend’s advice on a difficult situation. One that you’d put your own damn self in. 

____

_‘That’s hard. I mean you don’t really know them well enough to say anything, ya know?’_

____

That was something you wrestled with. It would be different if this were a friend who you were close with. It wouldn’t even be a debate if it were someone you knew well, like Sasha. You would tell them in a heartbeat because not telling them would likely have greater consequences. But when it came to Mike and Erwin, you didn’t know them. Again, you reminded yourself that it wasn’t your place. 

____

But if you did form a friendship with them, would you be more obligated to tell Mike? You imagined having a friendship with the men and all the while harboring this dark secret. 

____

There you went again, 100 miles ahead of present. 

____

You chewed your thumb nail again, not noticing that you had once again began to pace. 

____

You must have been taking too long to respond, because another text from Sasha lit up your phone. 

____

_‘Who do you think he was banging?’_

____

_‘Dunno. They do have a gardener.’_

____

Your reply was meant to be sarcastic. How were you supposed to know? You didn’t know a thing about the guys next door other than they were both attractive and that one was a cheater. 

____

Actually, you were relatively certain that Erwin wasn’t banging the gardener. That man on top of Erwin was too pale to see the sun on a regular basis. 

____

A vibration in your hand made you lift your phone again, expecting another text from Sasha, only to see a message from an unknown number. Your brows knitted together as your finger pressed against the notification, pulling up the text. 

____

_‘Hello, [y/n]. It’s Erwin. If you’re available, we’d like to have you over for dinner tomorrow night.’_

____

These guys didn’t waste any time. You’d be thankful about not having to cook if you weren’t harboring a secret about your inviter. You stared at the message, kicking yourself for opening it because Erwin would likely have an alert on his end that said the text had been read. He’d be expecting a reply. 

____

It wasn’t as though you could lie and tell him you wouldn’t be home. That avoidance strategy wouldn’t work with someone who could just peek outside and see if your car were in the driveway. Hiding your car in the garage wouldn’t work when it was still a mess of packed and unpacked boxes you had yet to either toss or organize. Honestly, you weren’t about to be up all night clearing it just to avoid your neighbors. You answered before you had more time to mull it over. 

____

__‘That sounds great, I look forward to seeing you.’_ _

____

Was that too formal? You added the number as a new contact before you could hyper analyze your own words. It was tempting to place the number under the name ‘adulterer’, but you thought better of it. You were just being petty about a matter that you shouldn’t be so invested in. You were going to have dinner with your neighbors and completely forget about what you saw—for your own sanity. You weren’t about to let self-imposed guilt eat you up inside. Though this wouldn’t be the first time. 

____

“Not my circus, not my monkeys.” You muttered to yourself, a little mantra you used to say when reminding yourself that something, often some sort of drama, wasn’t your business to involve yourself in or to be dragged into. 

____

Instead, you opted for continuing your conversation with Sasha, steering it toward any other subject possible. By the grace of god, she started asking you about your move and how you were enjoying your new house. Your friend always knew how to distract you. Maybe she felt your nerves through the phone. 

____

She’d known you early in your journey through therapy and knew when you needed to talk and when you needed to be distracted. Sometimes she knew it before you did. 

____

Counting and colors could only go so far. Sometimes a friend was the best grounding tool. 

____

To bad you couldn’t bring her to dinner tomorrow. 

____

You’d be on your own for that. 

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gave ya a little bit of naughty in there. 
> 
> Kudos and comments both make my heart sing and give me motivation to continue~! 
> 
> You're welcome to come by my tumblr and say hello or request a fic. <3

**Author's Note:**

> Annnnd we're off and running! 
> 
> I've never done a poly fic before and I'm excited to explore these three men for the first time. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this ride with me. 
> 
> Comments are so appreciated and Kudos give me butterflies. 
> 
> Also always take a look here in the notes at the end because I might have some online poles for y'all to take to make things a little more interactive, I haven't decided yet. 
> 
> I'm also open to requests for one shots and stuff so feel free to hit me up on my tumblr~ 
> 
> https://miss-eucatastrophe.tumblr.com/
> 
> Gonna try to have the next chapter up next week or sooner if I get impatient~ <3


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